The Dolls' House
by Ridney
Summary: Honestly, you're far too beautiful to be killed, so I've been wondering if there is a way to save you... Perhaps you become the chief of this village? -- Of course Nia refuses. But not this time. AU.


**The Dolls' House**

xxxxxx

Bright rectangles stretched across the marble floor. Sun spilled in from high windows, climbing up the opposite wall halfway to the vaulted ceiling – shadow, light, shadow – a pattern clean and unbroken all the way to the distant exit. The hallway was empty, and Nia tried to not look relieved.

As she turned the rest of the corner her face was a mask of cool indifference. She did not look like a person who would pause, heart racing, at every turn, and when she crossed her arms she was merely enjoying the view, not feeling for the brush of a treacherous note hidden in her left sleeve. She did not look like a person with any reason to be nervous, though it was true she would rather be in the comfort of her own chambers today. Nia didn't have to be here, but lately she'd been dreaming of the boxes.

Hundreds of boxes, thousands, enough for her and each of her wards. The hallucinations were no longer confined to the night, and by now she couldn't even take her afternoon tea in peace. When one of her girls brought in the tray, Nia instead saw a body curled in a flower-strewn container, superimposed over the other woman like a veil. The image of the corpse grew stronger until it completely eclipsed the living girl, and the mint would turn to vinegar in Nia's mouth. Her home was now populated by the walking dead, so she ventured deeper into the heart of Teppelin.

Each footstep echoed in the wide hall. This place did not hold fond memories for her, but she found excuses to visit regularly. Her village was surrounded by a sheet of impenetrable bedrock, too solid for anything to grow despite her best efforts; Teppelin, however, sat right atop the largest free human settlement. Thus Nia assigned herself to personally oversee the order and delivery of supplies from the city, accompany each of her trainees to their new placement in the palace, and even make the occasional nursery stop to help welcome uncoordinated young beastmen out of the tanks. There were a thousand trivial duties suited to a disgraced princess – all unnecessary, but they gave her a reason to be here.

Here she was closer to him.

Sighing, she stopped in the corridor and let habit pull her closer to the windows. Far below, the wastelands stretched from the city to the curve of the earth. The stones reminded her of broken teeth and the best days of her life, and somewhere among the jagged formations there was the boy she had met, who was now a man.

For a while Nia's calm half-smile was genuine. He had been the one to pull her from the would-be tomb and show her the other half of the world, the real half. And after her recapture, it was he who discovered the abandoned passage between Teppelin and the underground that allowed them to correspond. For years they had swapped letters stowed in the hidden crevices below the city's base. She kept the human resistance informed of major raids and sanctuaries, and he made sure that all her discarded girls were rescued from the dumping grounds: they helped each other survive, each in their own fashion.

It had never been a fail-proof plan. Some of his notes relayed bloody skirmishes and fallen comrades – faces and names that had been familiar in her short time with the Gurren-dan, strangers too – and each death sank her heart a little lower despite his repeated assurances that she had saved many others. If she had paid more attention to the number of squads deployed, questioned her sources one more time, delivered the information faster... Something, _anything_. Nia wouldn't allow him to spare her feelings. She didn't need more ignorance, there had been far too much of that already. She needed to know who she was killing.

Reports weren't necessary on the beastmen's side. There would simply be absences, gaps in the rank soon replaced by fresh recruits. Nia knew that Simon and his friends were working to give humans a better life, but they weren't the only ones she wept for. All her life she had lived among the beastmen, been raised by them; some of those who disappeared were the same cubs she had held in the nursery, and given all the information she leaked to the enemy, she couldn't help but feel a little responsible for each soldier that never returned.

In the end, it didn't matter who suffered less, there was only another defeat. _This is what happens when people are killed._ She pressed her palms against the wall of glass. What was wrong with her, that she couldn't make either side understand? Nia had never met a problem that couldn't be solved through civil conversation, but stubbornness was something the two armies had in common. It was the reason she had conceded to Guame before more blood could be shed, yet her surrender had done little to change the way of things. Others fought and died, while she watched, hoped, and whittled her life away in quiet subversion.

But it wasn't all violence and folded paper. They – just the two of them – had met a few times in secret.

Nia blushed, touching the ring on her left hand. He'd made it himself, but of course he could do anything. The small green stone rolled between her fingers; memories of the night he'd explained what it was still had the power to made her giddy. It hadn't been a marriage, exactly, but the promise of a future. She liked wearing it openly where anyone could see, though not even the girls had noticed the new piece of jewelry.

Her girls... Nia crossed her arms and stepped away from the window. They had become her daughters, sisters, mothers, and for the first time Nia knew what it was like to be part of a family, but all of them eventually left her care to enter into the King's service.

Notes on their recovery were vague, but led her to believe the women were – changed – after they parted ways. Concern for her wards was the one reason she would gladly visit the capitol, but once here they were lost to her, spending the rest of their young lives deep in the royal chambers. Father was there. She couldn't go to Father again. Even worse was the prospect of seeing someone else, the glimpse of a small child with flowers in her eyes...

Nia shuddered and hugged herself tighter, feeling the outline of the note just below her elbow. The island of warmth in her chest was gone. A cold metallic taste filled her throat, and she spun the band around her finger nervously. Someone in Teppelin had finally noticed activity around the ravine, and for the last few weeks there had been a hushed tension among the beastmen. Simon's most recent letter reported high casualties, and to make it worse, it appeared that the boxes were no longer being dumped in the usual location.

Her hand froze. Distant voices, swiftly growing louder. Jolted back into the present, she spun wildly, but the complex architecture reflected and distorted every echo until it was impossible to guess the source. The speakers could be approaching from any direction, and they were nearly upon her. There wasn't any time. Nia darted out of the light, dress swishing around her long steps, and pressed herself into an alcove behind one of the large stone columns.

No one should be here. The majority of Teppelin's population remained in the lower levels, far below the the ceremonial rooms and courtyards of the palace wing. She tried to shrink as small as possible, something to be forgotten on sight, if seen at all. The clamor had grown so loud it seemed to come from inside her own head, but voices in the jumble seemed oddly familiar. A little closer and she could almost make out words.

Then the wall gave way beneath her shoulder. Stiff with terror, she fell half a step before she got her feet beneath her, stumbled back upright, and found herself facing a green feathered ruff where plaster had been but a second before.

Nobody spoke, nobody moved. Nia didn't even breathe; she felt like a little girl again. If Cytomander had met her eyes, she might have stayed locked in her tracks, helpless as any prey animal. But his gaze landed on her and went right through. He looked down without seeing her in a stare more disdainfully vacant than anything she could hope to manage.

That was what snapped her out of it. Recovering her usual grace, Nia pivoted away from the alcove and made room for the tall general to pass. His eye twitched once, then he pushed by her and out into the hallway proper. She had unconsciously hidden her left arm behind her, but Nia continued the guilty action into a curtsy, which Cytomander made a point of ignoring before turning on his heel and leaving in the opposite direction. She held her courteous position and might have fought the urge to smirk had she been another type of woman, though a small ray of satisfaction did glimmer through her strained nerves.

It was now obvious that she had been leaning on one of the smooth-faced doors leading into the heart of the city. She had been foolish to not notice. There were many secret passages honeycombing Teppelin, but while this entrance was subtly incorporated into the wall, it was far from hidden. The hinges were plainly visible as it swung inward again – Nia repressed a jump – and Adiane appeared in the threshold. She didn't acknowledge the young human huddled beside her, she didn't even pause before striding in the same direction as Cytomander, but Nia knew the female general had missed nothing.

Nia kept her eyes on the polished marble floor as their footsteps receded in the distance. Her pulse was still hammering, but at least she'd had the presence of mind to smooth the shock from her face. With downcast eyes, she could hardly miss Guame as he waddled by next, nor the quick leer he cast her way.

Though he was smaller than the others, there was something more toxic in his presence. She could feel his pollution on her skin even after averting her gaze. Regardless of size, any one of them could kill her with casual ease, but that wasn't why she was afraid. The former princess pinned her hands between her back and the wall. She wouldn't let herself touch the ring. Her eyes would stay dry, and she wouldn't touch the ring.

She could imagine it though: the cool spot of smooth interrupting the skin on her finger, the sharp jewel that broke the surface of the band. It filled her vision and cleaned her like she knew it would.

Guame finally shuffled out of sight, and Nia exhaled, unclenching the fists she hadn't realized she'd made. The door was still ajar, and she straightened reflexively when it moved once more, though more quietly this time. She almost couldn't bear to be surprised again, but it was only Viral who slipped through the gap and clicked the door closed behind him. He looked startled to see her before correcting himself into a deep bow.

The three surviving generals had already left the corridor, far ahead as usual. If Nia was ignored, at least she wasn't Viral. The younger beastman's presence remained an affront even though he hadn't requested his unofficial power over the Eastern Army and had certainly never considered pushing for equal rank, yet, in a cruel twist, Thymilph's death had driven him to extinguish the humans more ruthlessly than any of his superiors. Still, he was always polite to her, and they shared an unspoken camaraderie that one outcast feels for another in a world controlled by rank.

But there were some things she wouldn't be able to forgive, and all Nia could wonder now was why all four where here at once, and why Viral was unable look her in the face. Did they know that much? The repulsive metal taste curdled back up in her mouth. Nia returned a weak bob and waited for him ask after her health, but today he left without a word, which both disturbed and relieved her. Perhaps he noticed her pallor and decided to be brief. Probably not.

Motionless, she waited until a beat after the corridor was empty. Then Nia tried to measure her steps, but by the time she reached the far door she was already running. It lasted until after she turned the corner, then her legs gave out and she had to embrace a column for support, covering her mouth to stifle the sobs for breath.

All four at the palace. Somebody had know before now. The city should have been abuzz at the rumor of their most powerful commanders gathering at once; she could recall only a handful of such summonings in her lifetime. This had either been a secret meeting, it had been deliberately kept secret from her, or both. Nia pressed her forehead to the cool marble as a wave of nausea swept over her. Her head crowded with explanations for what she had seen, none of them good. It was the most useless she had ever felt.

No. She pushed away from the column and straightened her gown. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself, patted the outline of a note through her sleeve with a hand that trembled only slightly, then walked toward the stair. The jewel bit into the tender skin between her fingers, and each stride was more steady than the last.

The rest of the afternoon was her finest performance. Straight-backed, radiating calm, she was the picture of royal elegance. Not once did she rush through her other appointments, her hand didn't shake again, and Marumura at the textile plant noted with awe that she looked especially gracious today. Nia smiled.

xxxxxx

The stair at the base of Teppelin weaved down below the visible city. It was a labyrinthine construction, cobbled together from centuries of workers building over the other. One of the paths terminated at a small door half-buried in the remains of an ancient quarry. It was all but forgotten in the generation since whatever technology the mines fulfilled had become obsolete. For a few decades after that, the exit was used as a dump for waste metal and refuse, but the scrapyard too was abandoned, and the passage fell back out of use and memory. The entrance was nearly obscured by rubble and old root growth, so no one would notice the oddly thin veneer of dust on the door's edge or the slim figure that pushed it open.

Nia followed the gash in the earth until only the top of the great city was visible between the rocks overhead. Though it was still out of sight, she knew a massive boulder was fifty paces ahead. From there she would find a gap where no eyes from the tower could reach and no sensors from the base would detect motion. More importantly, the soil below could be broken with a drill.

This path was safe from Teppelin, but dangerous with deep pits and loose rock, and she carried a collapsible pole in her belt since the last encounter with a scorpiviper. Gathering her skirts, she shimmied around a narrow turn and followed a gap behind the boulder.

On the other side the world plummeted down into a cliff pockmarked by erosion. A vicious gale howled up the steep rock face and whipped her hair around her body. Nia braced against the boulder, squinting into the wind. There, in the very end of of the crevice, a hollow worn in the stone. It appeared to be one many such shallow depressions, but someone reaching inside would discover a wider ledge below that was shielded from the elements.

Staring at the opening, she began to reach forward. Her arm stopped, hovering at chest height as she scanned the earth for some sign that would mark this time as different, some change in the air or stones that would prepare her for what came next. But if anything had happened here, the desolate landscape had already swept away all trace.

Her fingers searched against the sides of the worn opening; nothing, nothing. She groped more frantically, then inhaled as her hand closed around a small roll of paper secured with twine. Grasping the precious scroll in her fist, she snatched it out hard enough to scrape off the tops of her knuckles, but Nia didn't feel the sting as she stared at the message unfolded in her palm. The loose twine disappeared over the cliff, also unnoticed.

Wind whistled across the exposed rock and through her empty chest. It was her own handwriting, asking if the Gurren-dan had finally found where her girls were being cast away. Unread and unanswered.

She examined every corner of the paper in case his reply was written on the same sheet, searched and researched inside the hiding place and hunted in nearby depressions until the floor of the chasm below grew too dark to see, and she sank to her knees, exhausted. No emotion crossed her face; it had never been so easy.

Gently, she replaced the note so he could still find it. Nia couldn't leave the hollow empty. He might return before she came back tomorrow. She took a last look across the stones, at her own unsent letter, at the blood-crusted hands she would have to make a lie for. She would come back tomorrow and every day after.

xxxxxx

That night, in her dreams, she lay in a flower-scented coffin while all around the boxes stacked higher and higher, blocking out the sun.

xxxxxx

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End file.
